


Unlabeled.

by Letha



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Complex relationships, F/F, I Don't Even Know, Labels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letha/pseuds/Letha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>She is more than nothing, yet less than everything to me. I believe that is all I need to know.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlabeled.

I watch Kate tidy her gown in front of the mirror, admiring the beautiful curves of her perfectly round breasts and how the garment makes them look perfect, her nipples stand out proudy, her waist look petite. She is gorgeous, and I can feel my core heat up as I observe her hands slide down her sides and to the front of her thighs, then to her ass. I wonder if she is doing it on purpose, knowing I'm following her every move, or if she truly is inspecting her reflection. I repress a growl.

Everyone asks what Kate and I are. I have to admit, we don't know ourselves.

She is not my maid, even though she carries the unpleasant chores of opening the door and answering the phone for me.

She is not my assistant, but she does schedule my every appointment.

She is not my omega, yet when we have sex, I am always the one empowered.

She is not my lover, although we do have sex frequently. Lover implies there is a deep feeling between us, and there is none. It is the same argument I give when people asume we are partners. She is _not_ my girlfriend.

Even if we live in the same house, we are both rarely there, so no. we are not flatmates.

We aren't acquaintances, because we care for each other more than that, yet I don't think we really are friends.

Ah, labelling. Names could keep coming, and I could keep refuting them until the day Hell freezes over. Why are humans so obsessed with labels? She is more than nothing, yet less than everything to me. I believe that is all I need to know. I belive we need no more names other than our own; Irene and Kate. We don't need to be a unit. We don't need a name for what we have.

Kate traces along her sides again and to her breasts, which she cups and squeezes gently. I approach her, and she smiles as she hears my footsteps, not bothering to look up from her reflection's chest. Placing my hand on the back of her neck, I let my fingers trace the end of her hairline, bury in it. She moans in delight as my nails begin to dig into her flesh. She looks at me with dark, lust-filled eyes, and I repress a moan of my own at her passionate expression. For some reason, seeeing her naked and tied in front of me doesn't arouse me half as much as looking into her eyes and seeing her desire does.

"Are you mine?" I ask in a low purr I know makes her underwear wet. She shivers beneath my touch.

"I will be yours, anytime."

"My what?" I pull at her hair, and she gasps, letting her head fall back onto my hand.

"Your everything, Irene. Name it, and I'll become it."

I smirk and lower my head, my lips hovering millimetres away from her mouth. "Good," I whisper before finally crushing our lips together in a fierce kiss.


End file.
